


Silver Earring

by BabySnoopy



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Panic Attacks, Strangers to Lovers, i actually really dont know how to tag here, petty criminal!Minho, sibling!Chan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 06:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19740571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabySnoopy/pseuds/BabySnoopy
Summary: when minho kidnaps you knowing who you were but not what you were and apparently you really need his earring





	Silver Earring

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: skydivingstars.tumblr.com

The space was quite comfy for the abandoned building - lot? warehouse? - whatever this old structure was. You loved dark greys and any aesthetic for bare cemented walls. The cracks in them gave you little mazes to trace through to kill time and even the leak in the corner made some very relaxing background noise. Lucky for you, the room was also spacious enough for you to pace around and you were also getting quite the generous amount of sunlight through the huge windows up above, way out of arm's reach. It looked the prettiest up there, stray vines hanging around the glass like some sort of makeshift greenhouse.

You made yourself comfortable on the single mattress that was provided for you on the floor, lying with your arms behind your head, staring up at the window as you tried to count the dust particles you could spot floating about in the midst of the sun rays. The sun was rising now and that meant that the man who took you here was going to walk in at any moment.

Right on time, you heard a loud thud coming from the slamming of a door across the room, then followed by the hurried footsteps of his boots.

“It’s been three days,” he muttered under his breath, looking more restless than he had the day before. His hair was unkempt today, though you think if he had just simply run his fingers through it, it’d be fine. He’s dressed the same as he had for the three days you’ve seen him; ready for someone’s funeral. His black t-shirt was messily tucked into his black jeans, and he never forgot the black leather jacket fitted over. His look was always completed by a grim expression, though you noticed he was slightly more tense today. You knew why - it had been three days since he kidnapped you and yet, no one came for the ransom.

On one hand, you could tell that he didn’t really do this often. All his movements were awkward and stiff and you swore you heard him mumble ‘sorry’ when he accidentally yanked your hair as he tried to get you out of the trunk of his car. He didn’t even send your family confirmation that you were still alive when he demanded the money. He probably wasn’t even remotely dangerous, save for the pistol you knew he kept hidden on him.

On the other, you were a little hurt that no one actually came to say anything about you being missing for three days. You’d think someone of your status getting kidnapped would cause a mass of trouble but alas, you knew it wasn’t like that because this was your family.

And sadly for this poor guy, he had chosen the wrong family to involve himself with.

“I told you it was a waste of time,” you teased, getting up from your place to properly face him. The only thing that stood between the two of you were some rusty old iron bars that served as a divider between half of the large room. You didn’t know if this place used to be some sort of jail or prison but with a swipe of your hand, you could have easily let yourself out. Chan might be wondering why you haven’t freed yourself already.

“You are the child of Bang conglomerate, right? The one with a director who’s net worth is like, a bajillion dollars?”

“Hey pal, you kidnapped me. You should’ve done your research.”

The man took the seat in front of your cell, the only other piece of furniture in the room, leaning back on the wooden backrest while he stuffed one hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, and the other coming up to rub his temples.

“Wait, so you’re not who I think you are?” He looked so tired that when he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, his face coming into the sunlight so you could see him more clearly, you noticed the dark circles that dug underneath his eyes. The soft spot you had for him was starting to make itself known to you.

“No, you’re right - said director is my father. But if you wanted to be more threatening, why didn’t you just kidnap the first born? My brother?”

“Believe me, I tried.”

You snickered at that, quietly though so he wouldn’t feel so offended. You weren’t treating him like a joke, no not at all. You just recalled the day Chan came home scowling. His hair was ragged, sticking up in every direction and sweat dripped down his face like he might as well have been drenched from a storm. What made the sight all the more questionable was the bear trap he dragged behind him and a plastic fork sticking out of his socks.

“Don’t ask,” was the first thing he had said when you laid eyes upon him, though he spent the rest of that night rambling on about how a random dude put up a fight on the way home. Chan, as prideful as he was, admitted that he had to cast six different spells all because somehow the perpetrator kept dodging him. You saw proof on the news the next morning, about the abnormality of giant articles of trash found in an alleyway and a whole street of telephone poles bent towards the ground like someone just snapped them in half.

It was pretty funny then to watch Chan get a good scolding, but now that you sat before the actual man that had caused Chan to go through all that trouble made it ten times more hilarious.

“Are you laughing?” The man asked. Oops, guess you weren’t too good at keeping face. You purse your lips to stop yourself, then stood up to finally take your stance.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. What was your name again?”

“I never told you my name.”

You squinted at him, trying to focus just for a brief moment to extract that tiny piece of information from his mind. “Right, Minho.”

“What? How did you -” He started to get up defensively, a hand hovering in front of himself out of cautiousness and you knew the other was reaching into the back pocket of his jeans for the gun he had jammed in his waistband. You guessed it was the main reason he needed a leather jacket to wear over.

“Listen, I’d really love to stay and hang out some more but Chan is probably looking for me.” With a snap of your wrist, the gun flew out of his pants and hit the wall to the side with a momentum that a human arm probably couldn’t generate.

“What the -” Minho breathed, eyes unable to leave the only weapon he had on him that was now smashed to pieces on the floor to his left. His reaction was more lukewarm than you had imagined, less of the wild eyes and more upset in his frown actually. It ignited a curiosity you knew you couldn’t leave without satisfying.

Through your lips, you took a deep breath then blew into the direction of the locked chain that entangled the iron bars in front of you. Slowly, the chains loosened on their own, untangled themselves, then dropped to the floor with a loud clang of metal.

The sound was what snapped Minho’s attention back to you and his gaze alternated between the chain that was now on the floor and you that was now carefully opening the iron door, tip-toeing towards him. He took a small step backwards, just out of reflex, but he still didn’t seem to be phased by what he had just witnessed.

“Are you not weirded out at all?” You asked, accusingly almost because it wasn’t much fun when the other person didn’t overreact to the point you’d have to wipe their memory.

“Well,” he shrugged, regaining his posture and sticking his hands back into his pockets like he couldn’t care less. “Your brother did some pretty wacky things that one time. Just didn’t know it was a family thing.”

That was reasonable enough, you thought. But Minho didn’t look apprehensive at all. It was like he was just ready to give up and let you walk free like it wasn’t worth putting up a fight. Or maybe he was just smart and calculated his options, knowing that starting a fight with you without any weapons probably wasn’t in his best interest.

“Anyway, if you could’ve done that all this time, why’d you stick around for three days?” His hands gestured to you ungracefully and you didn’t know if he was genuinely curious or not.

“Well, I was going to bust out of here as soon as you threw me in, but then I saw something _you_ have that,” you paused, taking a step closer to him, “I need.”

He was slightly taller than you, probably because of the insoles of his boots. But with a closer look, you noticed that he probably wasn’t even that much older than you. The thought made that soft spot for him expand a little in your chest. Was this what he had to resort to in order to survive? Did he have anyone taking care of him? Being the children of such a high profile family, you yourself didn’t get much of that first-hand parenting you were supposed to, but you’d always had Chan around at least.

“What?” Minho mumbled, unamused at how curiously you were staring at him. He’d almost felt like a zoo animal at the receiving end of your gaze.

“That,” you pointed up at his face, slightly to his right. “The dangly silver thing.”

“My earring?” He exclaimed with quite the volume that his voice echoed throughout the bare room for the first time during this entire conversation. He must’ve been startled by how taken aback he was himself because you watched as he let out a sigh, perhaps to compose himself. “Why do you need my earring?”

Without much restraint for your movements, you took the couple steps forward that brought you face-to-face with the man. To your surprise, despite how run down he looked, he smelled like something else entirely, something so familiar. Almost like the cologne your father would douse himself in, the same one that lingered in your parents’ walk-in wardrobe whenever you snuck in. Then again, it didn’t smell like something that came out of a bottle, more like the mornings after an overnight downpour - like if you closed your eyes right then, you could feel the wet pavement and hear the birds chirping at 6 in the morning.

“It’s so much more than an earring though,” your voice was reduced to a whisper as your arms reached up for his ear like you were in a trance. The silver reflected in the light even more magnificently than your mother’s biggest diamond necklace and you really wanted to know how something so valuable ended up in his possession.

“Stop it,” he swatted your arm away gently, then moved backwards to place some distance between you two again. “You’re not having it. My mom gave it to me.”

“Okay fine,” you held your arms up in the air to signal your surrender, tilting your head to the side as you worked through a plan that might actually work. “But you still need that ransom, right?”

The bait caught his attention, of course something like that would. “I’m listening.”

“Then I think we could work something out.”

* * *

“Chan! I’m home!” You yelled, busting through the gold plated doors of the mansion that you called your home. Everything looked the same, smelled the same, felt the same - always welcomed with silence.

“Your brother is upstairs in his room,” a voice said quietly. Silence, except for the maids. You turned around to find one of them bowing slightly towards you. She motioned for the coat you have on and you shrugged it off, handing it to her as you’d always done.

“Does your friend-” Her arms hesitantly reached out to Minho to take his jacket, to which he stepped around to get behind you, avoiding her reach.

“No no, my friend would like to keep his jacket on.” You smiled at the maid then walked towards the staircase that stood dead-centre of the mansion, pulling Minho along by the elbow. “Can you bring some snacks up for me and my friend?”

“Of course,” she nodded, before bowing and ushering herself to the kitchen.

All that fills the silence was the sound of Minho’s boots against the tiled floor and your heavy breathing as a result of the taxing effect of going up that many stairs. You don’t know why your family found it so necessary to live in a place where you practically had to shout to hear the other person who would be at the opposite end of the hall. 

Chan’s room was located right at the end of the hall on the third floor, always brooding in the darkness like it was his evil lair or something.

You leaned your ear against his door, then knocked twice before barging in without giving him a chance to get the door for you. Minho followed you closely behind. He didn’t want to admit it but it was pretty weird for him to be here.

“Chan, I’m home!” You repeated again as you threw yourself onto his couch, kicking your feet up on the armrest. With a wave of your hand, a box of chocolates that was half open on the coffee table floated towards you. Eating Chan’s chocolates delivered by desperate fangirls always seemed to be so much better than the ones your parents flew in from Belgium. “Help yourself,” you offered Minho, letting a seahorse-shaped chocolate float towards his face.

Minho sat awkwardly at the edge of the couch, feeling very out of place. There was nothing unusual about Chan’s rooms but one thing that kept demanding his attention was the golden stew pot sitting on a turned-on stove in the corner. Was he cooking noodles or something? Or was it some magical concoction because he was pretty sure there was no recipe in existence that would cause the broth to glow lavender.

“Where’ve you been for three - who’s that?”

You turned around from your place at the couch to see Chan towelling his wet hair. He seemed to be at his most vulnerable - just having got out of the shower - but with one look towards Minho, you could see the uneasiness in his stance. He was always so agitated around strangers and you blame it entirely on that for his lack of friends. 

“An acquaintance,” you simply stated. “And don’t dry your hair with that heat spell again, I swear you’ll burn your scalp one day.”

“Does he...?” Chan was terrible at whisper-yelling and with the distance there was still between you and your brother, there wasn’t any chance you could’ve exchanged whispers anyway. He made some attempt of secrecy, by holding his hand up and then pointing in Minho’s direction behind it, but of course; a poor attempt.

“I’m right here,” Minho said, tone laced with irritation as he started to wonder whether this was worth coming with you here in the first place.

You explained to Chan about where you’d been for the past three days, calmed him down when he realised who Minho was, even prevented a part two of their fight from unfolding. Then you simply concluded with why you had brought him here, in your actual house and in Chan’s room.

“Because you liked his earring?” Your brother asked when you finished. His overall reaction was just incredulous because you were actually the worst at story-telling, leaving details out and then remembering them long after they became irrelevant, making the narrative that much more confusing.

“No, no. You have to look at it.” You scooted over towards Minho and to his horror and your shamelessness, your finger came up to his chin, gently tilting his face towards you for Chan to get a good look at the piece of jewellery that hung from his right earlobe.

Chan’s eyes widened at the sight. He opened his mouth to say something then closed it again because he couldn’t believe that a relic that’s been lost for centuries was here now, worn as an accessory by a guy who had no idea what it was worth. Following your actions previously, Chan walked over to Minho, leaning down as his arm tried to reach out and touch it...

“Can you both stop it?” A very angry Minho smacked Chan’s arm away. “What is with you guys?” He removed himself from being between you two, getting up from the couch to go lean on a nearby pillar. Subconsciously, his own fingers came up to fiddle with his earring, feeling comforted when his fingertips traced the edges of the pendant. He’d had that for as long as he could remember. Something that if missing, he would realise in an instant. After all, it was the only possession that was ever passed down from his mother; the only family he’s ever known.

“We want the earring,” you said bluntly and it was clear, from the firmness of your voice and seriousness in your eyes that it wasn’t something open for negotiation. “And we’ll give you… double the ransom you asked for.”

“Double?” Minho repeated. He wasn’t very good at math so it was taking him a while to get the numbers right in his head.

“Do you want triple?” Chan chimed in, raising the stakes like cash wasn’t a big deal to either of you. Well, of course it wasn’t. Not for the children whose parents owned a multi-billion dollar conglomerate and not, as Minho had been learning recently, for a family that seemed to have abilities that transcended any sense of normal that Minho had known.

Minho didn’t know if he wanted to stick around much longer. The idea of taking money from self-righteous spoiled kids like you almost made him feel sick. It was a wild idea to have tried to kidnap Chan in the first place. He should’ve seen the caution lights when the dude kept pointing in Minho’s direction and all these things around him kept growing in size. Then he didn’t know what convinced him that kidnapping you was a good idea. It was even a job that was too easy, maybe you had even let him.

He thought that he should’ve just stuck to petty robberies. They were always much less trouble even if they didn’t amount to much. Minho had always been a fast runner anyway. He believed it to be the only thing he was truly good for.

“He’s changing his mind,” you noted, head inclining to the side as you watched Minho intently. A flicker of surprise ran across his face for a brief second but then dissipated, overshadowed by the scowl that took over.

“Can you stop reading my mind or whatever it is you’re doing?” He looked around the room, then at Chan, then eventually at you. “Let’s just call this off.” And with that, Minho let himself out without another word, startling the maid who looked like she was just about to knock on the door, carrying a tray of snacks in her hand.

The only thing that prevented you from running after him was Chan, someone who had good enough experience with you to know when to leave someone who didn’t really want to talk yet.

* * *

You caught Minho trying to rob one of the gas stations that your family owned, a few weeks later. If anyone asked - if Chan asked - you just happened to be in the area and witnessed all the commotion. What no one needed to know was that you’d been tracking Minho since he had left.

Just seconds before Minho was about to pull out another gun from the waistband of his pants, you made your entrance known when the bell above the door rings and you locked eyes with Minho, offering him a kind smile.

He, on the other hand, wasn’t too glad to see you.

Reluctantly, his hands dropped to his sides and he trudged past you, purposely knocking his shoulder against you as he made his way out the door.

“You’re not getting the earring,” he called, knowing you were closely following him from behind. “I don’t care what you’re offering.”

You quicken your pace to keep up with him, but always fell short a couple steps behind. “I have the money with me right now!”

“I don’t want your money.”

“So, you were just about to rob this place for funsies?”

Minho stopped abruptly and you were a second too late to notice, your body slamming directly into his back when he turned. Again, the smell of rain floods your senses and it almost made you want to remain this close to him.

But Minho effectively took his hand and pushed you away from standing too close.

“What do you want from me?”

“The earring!”

“No, I mean what for? Why do you need it so bad?”

This was where you turned quiet. It was bold enough of you to show him your magic without any forewarnings but even talking about this felt wrong to say out loud. As nonchalant as Minho had been towards all that he’s seen, you were sure this was something that you probably couldn’t bring up through casual conversation.

“It’s a secret,” you settled and Minho rolled his eyes at such reasoning. “Look, I really do have the cash with me,” you grabbed the small purse you had on you, a magic purse unbeknownst to Minho, and you reached deep down into its contents to pull out a briefcase.

Then another. And another. Until you had four briefcases sitting at your feet and one in your hands. You struggled to hold up the weight, the entire briefcase sitting on the entire length of your arm but you somehow successfully managed to click it open, to show Minho what was inside.

Sure enough when Minho peeked inside, he could see there was enough cash for him to go swimming in it if he wanted. He had always imagined what it’d be like to see that much with his own two eyes but looking at the sight now, made him feel all queasy instead.

“Put that away,” he hushed. He reached his arm out under yours to support the weight of the case when he slammed it shut. “I said I don’t want your money!”

He looked really serious this time. You snapped your finger and all the briefcases disappeared into a cloud of mist.

“Do you want... a job then?” You questioned carefully. “I mean, if you’re only committing these petty crimes because you think you have no other choice, then it makes sense why you won’t take my money. You can do it the right way then! Build a career and all that.”

“Are you kidding me?” Minho deadpanned, his gaze was cold and there was something in his tone that told you he wasn’t going to put up with you tonight. “Don’t act like you know me. Just leave me alone.”

Then he walked off, again you noted. It left you scrambling for your thoughts, wondering if you should just break your rule this one time and read into his mind and easily figure out what it is he wanted exactly. But your mind didn’t work on a one-track basis like that. You knew that you desperately needed that earring but another part of you felt some itching urge to help the guy. By all means of logic, this could’ve easily been a win-win situation but Minho was a factor you couldn’t predict. 

You knew that what you planned to do next might just drive him to the edge but you couldn’t give up this easily, so you followed him.

Invisibility spells were a little more tricky on your part, though Chan could work through them with his eyes closed. It was the other way around with you both, because Chan could not get any of the telekinesis spells right without making himself go nauseous.

Minho didn’t linger around much. He whisked through empty streets and slipped through dark alley ways without much of a thought, climbing up old drainage pipes and then leaping across roofs. If it weren’t for your magic, you might’ve passed out from exhaustion already because man, did Minho have some type of superhuman stamina. Maybe he could cast a few spells himself. What a plot twist that would be.

Finally, he slowed down once he reached a specific building, and you didn’t know how he was able to tell because all the roofs practically looked the same from up here. He stopped at a door that led into the building, most likely abandoned, judging by the way he swung the door open carelessly. You slipped inside easily right after him, quietly following him down the staircase. The spell made you invisible but not mute. You had to squint in the darkness, running your hands along the walls to make sure you didn’t trip or anything. The walls were cold but your fingertips glossed over the smoothness of the cement. It seemed very familiar...

The stairs lead you to a floor that you could only guess was where Minho lived. It was a vast space that was mostly empty. The kind of lots that were set for demolishment but was for some reason cancelled. On the walls you could see the remains of what used to be wallpaper. To one side, is what you assumed to be his living space. Nothing more than just a king sized mattress on the floor, some tapestries hanging overhead, and a makeshift coffee table next to it, its surface littered with empty potato chip bags and coca-cola cans.

On the opposite side of the floor, was some sort of kitchen. Or at least, when this building was in use, it was. The oven and microwave areas on the wall were empty, filled with dust, but surprisingly, there was a working fridge - one in which you watched Minho open and take another cola out of.

You explored the area a little more, walking around to see the railings in the middle that looked down to the other floors. Everything was dark, bare, and dusty. Nothing unusual about an abandoned building, just a couple floors. Something like your mansion. The windows were the most peculiar to you. They stretched across the walls like one of the luxury apartments your family owned. In the daylight, it must be a beautiful sight and you adored the way the little vines crawled across the panes...

“You kidnapped me in your home?” You said, out loud.

For the first time, in all the interactions you’ve had with Minho, you had managed to startle him. Though you really didn’t mean to this time, holding back your giggles when your invisibility spell came undone and Minho fell backwards from the kitchen counter he sat on. Luckily, he had already dropped his drink at the sound of your voice, otherwise it would’ve spilled onto himself.

“I’m sorry!” You yelped, hurrying over to help him up.

All you heard was his inaudible grumbling as you bent down to pull him up by his arm, like you had any strength to pull a grown man to his feet.

When he steadied himself, without rejecting your help you noticed, he looked at you with a calmness that sent goosebumps to ride up your arms. He was probably really, really angry.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone?” He growled.

“I’m sorry,” you admitted, two words you’ve said to him countlessly but two words that you said now with more sincerity than you’ve ever delivered in your life.

Minho could sense that, in the way your eyes softened as you pulled your gaze away from him and also in the way your fingers fumbled together, making you look uncharacteristically nervous.

You ended up sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall in Minho’s ‘bedroom’ area, staring out at the large glass window that looked out at a radiant night sky. Minho offered you a cola and even though you didn’t drink soda, you took it anyway as you felt him drop his weight to sit next to you.

“It’s a nice place you have here,” you said quietly, after letting a long, dreary twenty minutes of silence pass by the both of you.

Minho responded with a low hum, before taking another sip of his drink.

Your attention was drawn back by the bright green vines that hung around the sides of the window pane on the outside. You raised a hand, then gently with a wave of your fingers, the vines started to move, growing and spreading from the bottom of the window to the top, filling the glass with so much more life.

You glanced back at Minho, slightly worried about how he’d react but now it was his turn to startle you, for you saw a slight smile graced his lips.

“So, what is it? You and your brother have superpowers?” He looked towards you as he asked but you looked away immediately.

“More like magic, really,” you mumbled. It was always much cooler to show him the things you could do but saying it out loud like this made you feel like a clown.

“And my earring? It’s... magical?”

You sighed - it sounded even more ridiculous coming from him. “It’s the last piece of a relic.” You explained, hesitant to tell him what it was actually used for. “ _Hypothetically_ , you could use it to speak to the dead.”

“Hypothetically?”

“Chan and I have research but it’s all still theory.”

Minho took a moment to take in what you were telling him, elements of a casual conversation on a very inconspicuous Sunday night. “Who are you trying to speak to?” He set his empty can down, then moved over to sit in front of you, letting his head rest in his palm as his elbow leaned onto his thigh.

With him looking at you sideways like that, you realised that the soft spot you garnered for him earlier had evolved into something much more bothersome - it had become something annoyingly fluttery now.

“My little brother.” The words came out heavy. Though anyone would expect them to, for it had only been a few months.

“I thought it was just you and Chan?”

“He died from an accident, a result of some magic gone wrong and as twisted as it is, my family covered everything up.” You breathed in deep, hugging your knees closer to your chest now. “Made it seem like he never existed at all.”

You were thankful for the quiet this time, feeling as though your shoulders were that much lighter for once. Chan had been so strong and put together, at least in front of you, and it always seemed like you needed to match up. That if he could manage to not fall apart for your sake, that you could do the same for him.

Suddenly, Minho shifted in his seat, lifting his hips to grab something out of his back pocket. You thought he was about to take his gun out but instead there is a photograph in his hand. He put it down on the floor in front of you, letting his fingers linger over the worn out film paper before he gently pushed it towards you.

“That’s my mom.”

You picked it up to take a closer look and smiled at the sight. It must’ve been recent, within the year or so because Minho didn’t look much different in it. They were both sitting on some stairs, Minho on a higher step so he could wrap his arms around his mom, chin resting on her head as she broke into a beautiful grin. Minho’s eyes were closed but his smile was the brightest feature of that photograph. You didn’t even know he could smile like that. It looked like a candid shot, a picture that boasted so much warmth. 

Then it didn’t take long for you to remember that Minho had once told you his earring was given to him from his mom. The earring that you had been so hell bent on buying off of him. The one that you didn’t even regard what it meant to him.

“Now that she’s gone, I’ve just been on my own.” He seemed to be looking for the words to explain it better to you but you reached out and took his hand, opening up his palm as you place the photograph back in his grasp.

It was enough to tell him that he didn’t need to explain, didn’t need to justify the choices he’s been making since or the attitudes he’s adopted. Your first impression of him was right - he wasn’t someone that was remotely dangerous.

“You know,” you spoke up, “we might be able to talk to your mom actually.”

Minho looked up at you with eyes that pleaded. It was a thought that had never crossed his mind before, but now everything seemed to be racing too quick. What would he say to his mom if he could speak to her again? Would she know about what had become of himself? Would it break her heart?

“I’ll talk to Chan -” you pushed yourself against the wall to stand up but Minho was quick to get up on his feet as well.

“Whoa, slow down. It’s late, you can’t go now.”

“Minho, I smashed your pistol to bits, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah but,” he held his arms out like he was trying to block you from leaving. “You can stay here tonight and we’ll go first thing tomorrow? Maybe we should also take a second and think through this.”

You nodded at that, letting a yawn takeover your face, unable to hide anymore how tired you were from following Minho and his roof-leaping fiasco. 

* * *

Morning came as beautiful as you expected it to, with gentle light pouring in through the windows and illuminating the lively vines that you helped spread outside. Now you could clearly see the dried smearing over the glass as a result of some half-assed cleaning but no matter, you could still see clearly enough to count the clouds.

Your neck ached from having fallen asleep leaning against the wall but it was a stubborn act you had to stand by because you didn’t want to lose the argument that lasted over fifteen minutes of Minho offering you the mattress. You even had to cast a spell that permanently glued your butt to your place so that Minho wouldn’t carry you himself but even then, the fool still fell asleep curled up on the floor.

The light kissed his nose first. Then you watched as the sun rose and how the morning rays kept spreading across his face, encasing him with a glow that you might even describe as angelic. It didn’t take long for him to feel discomfort, for the heat on his skin eventually woke him up.

You snapped your eyes away immediately, getting up from your place to stretch out your sore limbs.

“Chan should be here soon,” you told him. Minho squinted as he tried to process your words before nodding lazily and forcing himself up.

You had agreed to Minho’s suggestion last night that a) he wasn’t very keen on returning to your mansion again and b) that his empty abandoned building of a home would make a much more suitable lot for practicing all that magic. You thought that was a very insightful suggestion for once and upon contacting Chan, an unpleasant conversation filled with more story telling, explanations, and convincing on your end, he finally agreed.

You set up on the second floor of the building, a floor with the exact same layout as the one Minho lived on but the space was extra dusty and also home to a few rats. Chan came at exactly the time he said he would, bringing the heavy relic in his backpack.

“Are you sure we want to do this?” He asked, hands still inside his backpack. He looked up at you searching for more reassurance, thought you thought you’d given him enough of that over your phone call last night.

“Of course.”

He pulled out the relic with both hands, a stone-carved structure as large as his torso. It was circularly-shaped, with gems and stones embedded onto its surface in the shape of the swirl. It reminded Minho of an old computer game he used to play.

Chan set the relic down onto the ground and from there, Minho could see that right at the centre of it, was an empty crevice - like something was missing from it.

With Chan kneeling down and adjusting the stone structure, moving it around slightly, reading it like a compass, you stood beside Minho and nudged him in the elbow. He was rather stiff today but you assumed it to be from having slept on the floor all night.

“The earring?” Chan called, holding his palms out.

Minho was feeling all bouts of hesitation. He actually barely had any sleep last night, only able to doze off an hour before he was woken up. Just thinking about what you were about to do straight up scared Minho. Reading minds or moving objects without touching them might’ve been one thing but talking to the dead was something else entirely.

He couldn’t move past the fact that you said it was still theory, like no one had ever done it in the generations of magic that lived through your family. He didn’t know a single thing about the extent of what you and Chan could do but he knew enough to know that if something hadn’t ever been done before, then there might have been good reasons for that.

But when he turned his head to face you, locked in contact with the eyes that sparkled with gratitude, Minho couldn’t help but remember the way your voice broke last night when you talked about your brother. He wouldn’t call himself a professional at dealing with loss - look at what he’d become anyway - but he knew that with the way your entire demeanour shrunk in your conversation, that you were still very much grieving and that you weren’t letting the wounds heal.

If it meant anything at all, he would’ve given you two thumbs up for how brave you’ve been because even though it had been Minho that lived life like he was always on the run, alone without anyone to lean on, it looked like you had to pull yourself together on your own. And although Minho didn’t like thinking about life lessons all that much, he knew it in his bones that everything was twice as hard when you feel alone even if you had people around you.

Minho reached for his ear, took out the earring and then gently placed it in your palm. His hands lingered over yours for a moment and you appreciated the warmth, felt it course up your arm and then across your chest.

“So, how does this work? Like a phone call or something? FaceTime?” Minho asked, hands crossed over his chest as he watched Chan fumble with the earring. Apparently the earring was just a cover up for it’s true form. When Chan held it in between his thumb and pointer finger, it revealed itself to be a diamond. Though its size didn’t differ too much from what the earring was, it was still the first time Minho saw a real diamond in front of him and he wondered how he had never known that it dangled by his ear this entire time.

“Wait, what did you tell him?” Chan turned to you now, a look of confusion evident on his face.

You ignored his expression but then turned to Minho with an apologetic smile. “I may or may not have dialled down the truth... a little.”

Minho blinked in your direction. He didn’t care much that you lied but by reading Chan’s body language, he could tell that you were going to say something that was going to make him feel uneasy.

“We don’t think this thing can communicate with the dead...” You started then paused. You wanted to lengthen your pauses to be able to get a better gage at how Minho was going to react, though aside from his usual unreadable stare, you thought you’d be at a point where he would understand. “We think it can bring them... back.”

That was when Minho felt goosebumps climb all over his neck and his arms. A handful of rubble fell to the floor in the corner at that moment and only Minho turned his head towards the sound. When he looked back, there was such dissonance between your innocent eyes and the seriousness of your words.

Bringing the dead _back_? Every single fibre in Minho’s body was screaming that this was wrong. He looked to Chan, wondering if he was the only one that thought this was crazy. But one look at that guy and Minho didn’t need magic spells to tell that he had his own problems to think about. With the way he kept glancing nervously towards the back of your head, it’d be things that he probably didn’t talk through with you.

“Actually, no,” Minho said. “Give me my earring back, I don’t want to do this.” He began to walk towards Chan, who was still kneeling on the ground, but his sudden move made you go and stand between them.

“Minho, what are you doing?” You cut in.

“Getting my earring back. Now, move.” Minho gripped your shoulder.

“No, you can’t!” You cried, not letting yourself be removed like that.

“What do you mean I can’t? Of course I can,” he made a motion to push past you but you held your ground, palms pressing against his chest to shove him backwards. It resulted in a struggle between you both, one that Chan had to get up and break up himself.

“What’s your problem?” You asserted, shrugging off Chan’s hold on you.

Tension was roused between you and Minho but he kept glancing back and forth between you and Chan. It was almost as if Chan was trying to tell him something.

You snapped your head towards him immediately, just barely catching the way he shook his head at Minho. You convinced yourself enough to think you imagined it, that Chan would surely be on your side here.

“I just don’t think this is right.” Minho’s voice brought your attention back to him. You watched as he cautiously took a step forward. You didn’t understand why he didn’t agree. You were so sure you got through to him last night. Sure that with how he felt about his mom, he would know exactly how you’d feel, would want the same thing.

“Don’t you want to see your mom again?” You blurted. That question alone made you stoop to a level you wish you hadn’t and it was clear as day that what you had just said stung Minho deep. Using his mom as leverage like that was unlike you.

Minho bit away a snarky comment he could easily have thrown at you but knew that it wouldn’t help. With the way Chan had signalled from behind you that he should stop you, he had to make wiser decisions now. “I know you want to see your brother again, but this isn’t going to help him. Or you.”

“W-what?” You sputtered, unable to keep yourself composed. “Jeongin didn’t deserve what happened to him. He didn’t deserve to end up like this.”

“But he’s gone now and bringing him back isn’t going to make things better. You don’t even know if this is going to work!”

“It _is_ going to make everything better and it’s _going_ to work. Chan, tell him it’s going to work.” You desperately looked at your brother, feeling something wet in the inner corner of your eyes. Chan looked up at you sadly, realising only then how much you had been holding up without him knowing.

These past couple minutes were filled with knowing looks and the exchange of glances but with the way he looked at Minho, you knew a silent conversation just took place. Minho nodded his head and Chan swallowed before he formed his words, voice in a whisper. “I think he’s right.”

Your breath hitched in disbelief, betrayal smacking you in the face to realise that your own brother wouldn’t come to your defence. You reached for Chan’s hand to grab the diamond for yourself but he held up his empty palm, quicker than you were to cast a disappearance spell.

“ _No_ …” you breathed. Flashes of the nightmares that used to plague you for weeks on end resurfaced, imagining Jeongin in a dark place. You always saw him alone and afraid. They always seemed too real, a sense of urgency taking you over like you needed to find him in time. Then it was always in the crucial last seconds before you woke up did it feel like you lost him again, that you had let him down. You should’ve protected him in the first place, should’ve been there when it all happened.

You don’t know how you ended up on the floor, hyperventilating as you clawed at your own chest. You had never let Chan see your panic attacks, always begged the maids not to tell him or your parents. 

“It’s not your fault.” Chan kneeled down beside you and you flinched when he placed his hand on yours. The one time he really needed to cast a telepathic spell was the one time it worked and you knew, you just knew that Chan could see everything; the thoughts that piled up like dirty laundry ever since Jeongin died, the thoughts that you kept to yourself because you figured that was what it meant to be strong.

Minho wanted to come forward, wanted to hold you to tell you he was sorry for doing this but he knew it wasn’t the right time - it was your brother that you needed.

Tears streamed freely across your cheeks and you pulled Chan towards you, fisting his shirt as you let your sobs echo throughout the empty building.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into your hair. “I should’ve checked in on you, I should’ve been there.”

Minho stood by and watched the two of you, thinking that it made him feel warm to know that you had Chan with you. Quietly, he was about to turn around and make his way upstairs to give you both space but then he felt something small knock against his knuckles. He looked down to see the silver earring floating near his skin and he looked back to see Chan already staring at him. His eyes were slightly bloodshot from crying but he attempted a smile.

Minho hooked the earring back onto his earlobe, nodding in gratitude towards Chan.

Later on he learns that you had disappeared, wanting to take the time to truly find peace after spending too much of your waking hours trying to find ways to get your little brother back. He was happy to hear that, sincerely. 

* * *

This time, Minho was the one to come to you.

You sat by the pier, legs dangling over the edge as you leaned back on both your arms. You seemed to be enjoying the ocean breeze. Minho could tell by the way your eyes were closed as he walked towards you, the corners of your lips slightly upturned in a way that told him you were in a new state of calm.

You turned your head when his bare footsteps grew closer, the sound accompanied by the creaking of the wooden floorboards of the pier. You were surprised to see him.

“How’d you get here?” You asked. Minho didn’t realise how much he missed your voice.

“How do you think?” He came to sit next to you, holding tightly onto the edge. You looked up towards the shore and found Chan walking across the sand. “I don’t have a _private_ jet to fly off to my own _private_ island so, magic it is.”

You giggled to hear a sentence like that come out of his mouth and to that, Minho smiled.

The clouds seemed to darken in the distance and it wasn’t a particularly nice day out to be here by the ocean. The wind ruffled through your hair like it was trying to make a birds nest out of it, carrying ocean mist that felt equivalent to the kisses of a light drizzle.

“If you’re here to apologise, then I suggest you get Chan to zap you back to where you came from.”

“That’s fine. I’m not good at apologies anyway.” His voice was gentle, reminding you of the soft lapping of low tidal waves right below you.

“I still miss him, Minho.” You leaned onto his shoulder and Minho almost short-circuited at the movement, afraid his shoulders were too pointy for you to lie on or if you were going to comment on the fact that his heart was trying to jump out of his chest. He shuffled in his place to sit closer and you welcomed the gesture, feeling more comfortable against him.

“I know,” he whispered, hesitant to put his arm around you. His hand hovered over your shoulder for a moment before finally setting it down, tapping your bare skin rhythmically. “I know you do.”

Seagulls squawked overhead and the clouds were turning ash grey in a blink of an eye; the signs of a brewing storm.

In an attempt to salvage this moment for as long as you could before having to head inside, you easily slipped one arm around Minho’s waist with the intent of bringing him closer.

Then you felt something solid and chunky against your arm.

“You brought your _gun_ with you?”

Minho’s pupils grew wide before you felt his hand come up to your head from your shoulder, smoothing down your hair as some sort of distraction.

“Force of habit.”

Your finger snuck under his shirt, thumb rubbing against the bare skin by his waist. You turned your face towards his chest, lips murmuring against his t-shirt. “You don’t need it anymore. I’m a better protector than some piece of machinery.”

“Sure you are.”


End file.
